


its warm for once

by blue_skie_s



Series: its warm when im cared for, for once [3]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Clay | Dream Angst (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Dadza, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Other, Sad Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Winged Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), dream feels warm, they eat sweetberries together, they r family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:01:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28460562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_skie_s/pseuds/blue_skie_s
Summary: He plops down next to Phil on the couch, curling into the older man’s side and sighing softly. His cheek presses against Phil’s shoulder as he reaches over and hesitantly takes a berry, taking his time to chew it as Phil’s wing curls around him. He soon swallows it, savoring the sweet flavor after having barely eaten much in the past week of walking. He takes another and eats it, letting the juice fill his mouth before swallowing. Dream then takes another. And another. He continues taking them until his stomach is absolutely screaming again from too much at one time, and he flinches, reeling his hand away from the bowl.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: its warm when im cared for, for once [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2080005
Comments: 48
Kudos: 514





	its warm for once

**Author's Note:**

> sorry i didnt edit this one too much bc i wanted to get it out
> 
> i hope its okay hdbcjdhc

Dream awakes to the scent of vanilla and a thick, warm blanket draped over his body, what seems to be an extra, thinner blanket being under it as well. There’s a sink running that he can hear from whatever room he may be in, and what appears to be humming coming from a little ways away. There’s the crackling of a fire, the clanking of pots and pans and silverware. The wind outside blows heavily now, pattering against a window that sounded to be above him.

Memories of… what, last night? Yesterday? Gradually leak into his mind, and the phantom feelings of gentle hands tugging his own away from his hair carefully as to not hurt him, a warm palm resting upon his cheek and rubbing it calmingly and comfortingly, the warm embrace given to him by Phil as he sobbed into his shoulder until he was simply hiccuping and sniffling, feeling safe and tired, and then being carried and lulled to sleep by the soft murmuring of Phil…

He opens his eyes blearily, eyelids partly drooped as he gazes around at his surroundings. There’s photos hanging securely from the carefully created walls, and Dream’s pretty sure that a lot of them include Tommy, Wilbur, Techno, and Tubbo in them _(only a guess)._ There's a lamp hanging from the wall, and the warm orange fire inside of it flickers faintly. Indeed, there’s also a fireplace in the room burning brightly and, as he looks up, a window above his head presenting the ongoing snowstorm outside ( _that he could’ve been caught in)_.

There’s a wooden bookshelf sturdily standing upward on four wooden legs, packed with many books and baskets of what were probably treasure maps, locator maps, and maps in general that were important (there’s a specific basket that seems to hold the less useful maps by what he can see). There’s also some fairly pretty flowers and plants hanging from the walls in pots, vines climbing down the solid clay and harboring bright green leaves. Petals are scattered across the floor, and a few feathers that are most definitely from Phil are among them. 

The fire in the fireplace, along with the lamp, casts an orange-yellow glow on the room that reminds him of days exploring caves with childish curiosity ( _and it’s a painful reminder of past days with Sapnap, and a reminder of war and fighting_ ) and warms him further as he simply lays there. Dream takes a moment to just gaze into the fire blankly, watching the flames crackle and glow.

_He’s watching as Sapnap burns the forest surrounding L’manburg with what’s almost a crazed smile, tossing a torch into an unburned area and cackling. The trees catch on fire easily, smoke and the scent of burning bark polluting the air. A bit of water builds up in his eyes because of the smoke as he sits next to George, but he only blinks them away and shouts a cheer of victory, punching the air and laughing as Sap sprints over and they run back towards the Dream SMP lands._

There’s tears pricking at his eyes, and he sniffles, bringing a weak hand up to wipe at them as he grabs the blanket with the other and pulls it closer to him. His scalp aches, his stomach is practically screaming at him, his throat still hurts from when he was wailing and is dry from a lack of water. Dream lets out a small, scratchy sob, squeezing his eyelids shut and pulling the blankets up to his face. He feels so _small_ and _weak_ , _he can’t be weak or small he can’t be weak he can’t be weak he has to be strong for everyone he can’t be crying he can’t be crying that isn’t being strong that’s being weak he’s being weak he’s beingweakweakweakWEAK—_

He snaps his eyes open wide as the door opens, and he looks in the direction of the door with watery eyes, meeting the gaze of Phil standing there. He sniffles again, breaths uneven and quick even though it pains his throat further. Dream barely notices Phil walking over, his footsteps silent as Dream’s ears fill with that strange and unpleasant cotton feeling from before, and he just feels _so_ _weaK—_

Now Phil’s kneeling near him and setting a hand on his shoulder and rubbing it and speaking to him and _his ears clear and he’s still crying because how can’t he cry when he’s being comforted and he still feels warm and this isn’t a dream this isn’t a dream he’s not hallucinating at least he doesn’t think he is is he hallucinating is this his imagination is Phil actually here he doesn’t want this to be fake he doesn’t want this to be a dream please don’t be a dream pleasedon’tbe—_

“—Dream!”

The panicked but hushed voice of Phil brings him back to focus, and he almost immediately coughs, leaning into one of Phil’s hands that was tangled in his hair and brushing through it gently. “It’s okay, bud, I’m here, alright?” he hears Phil whisper, and he feels more tears build up in his eyes, and he lets them fall, because he feels like he can be weak around Phil. Soon, Phil’s bringing him into that same hold from before, and he hugs back tightly, hiccuping and sniffling and crying as Phil’s hand brushes through his hair. It reminds him of nights spent with Sapnap or George or Bad, after a day of stressing and pushing himself to his very limit to achieve what he felt he needed to. It reminds him of when he was a kid, sitting in his father or mother’s lap after getting a scrape or a bruise from being clumsy and reckless outside, or accidentally tripping down the stairs. 

Phil’s talking to him, and none of it really makes sense to him because he wasn’t listening, but by what he _has_ heard, it’s something about a creature that had the body of a lion and the head of an eagle. His voice is calming, and Dream’s tears soon slow to a stop as Phil continues to gently massage his scalp ( _which was starting to hurt less, too_ ).

“...I have some berries in the kitchen, buddy, do you want some?” Phil asks him with a tone that is filled with care and a feeling of safety.

He nods in response ( _his throat is too dry to verbally respond_ ), and he hears Phil chuckle and then pull away from the hug, resting a hand on his shoulder. Dream yawns slightly, rubbing his eyes and sniffling once again, wrapping the thicker blanket tightly around himself and grabbing the hand that he hadn’t noticed Phil had held out until now. The fire still crackles as background noise, and he feels oddly calm as he glances around once again, taking in the appearance of the room, and noticing new things among the stuff he’d previously noticed. There’s an old guitar hanging from the wall, beautiful patterns carved by hand into the wood of the instrument. The strings are in good shape, but it’s still visibly well-used ( _he’s sure it probably belonged to Wilbur)_ . There’s a worn-down iron sword near the guitar, visibly well-used as well, harboring a dulled blade that was probably only a few swings away from breaking, but it was also very obviously well-loved, polished up and shining in the light that the room held ( _he’s very positive it was Techno’s)_ . There’s a bee smoker, not as well-used visibly, but still as well cared for as the others, and it radiated a strange sort of euphoria, happy but calm at the same time ( _Tubbo’s, he just_ **_knows_ ** _)._ There’s a set of old music discs near the smoker (“ _Wait” and “Pigstep” from what he sees)_ , worn just as the other items are, but shiny in the same way (... _Tommy’s the only one that has a weird obsession with music discs)._

_The reminders of each and every one of them shove even more guilt into his heart. Tommy’s discs. The same kid who he fought against, who he killed twice, who he_ **_manipulated_ ** _, who he separated from the rest of the server, who he_ **_hurt_ ** _. Tubbo’s bee smoker. The same child he had made exile his own friend, who he had caused to go through two deaths, who’s bees he had killed. Techno’s sword… Tommy’s brother, and who had to go through Wilbur’s death and be met with a shell of the man not even a week later. Wilbur’s guitar. The same man who he’d fought against, who he’d let go insane, who he’d been the cause of his death, as well. Who he had brought to a literal_ **_breaking point_ ** _._

_He’s hurt them all, and he regrets it so very much._

There’s a worn and fairly ripped bucket hat, old but majestic, in a way. He knows who it belongs to immediately, the man being right in front of him currently. It held a powerful and important feeling, very obviously belonging to someone who was quite a big figure in the world ( _he’s not quite sure just why Phil holds that exact aura, though. Maybe he’ll figure out one day, but today is not that day)._

_Phil. The father who had to kill his own son the day he joined, and who’s witnessed his sons drift apart, hate and anger directed at each other. Phil’s had to pretend that everything was fine. Phil’s had to pretend to be strong for the sons he has left. Phil’s had to watch them all get hurt. Phil had to watch Techno help destroy L’manburg. Phil had to watch Tommy get exiled for a second time. Phil had to watch Tubbo stress out and regret agreeing to exile Tommy. Phil’s had to watch his sons break, and it’s all his own fault that Phil’s had to watch that._

Dream blinks, meeting the patient look of Phil and very soon realizing that he blanked out for _at least_ a good minute. He blushes in embarrassment, pulling himself to his feet with the help of Phil and clinging to the older man’s arm, not really wanting to be too far away from him right now ( _he’s terrified that the moment he lets go for a millisecond too long, Phil’ll disappear, and he’ll be alone once more)._ Phil doesn’t even mention his sudden “clinginess”, smiling softly and tugging him out the doorway of the room he had awoken in.

The hallway had the same walls, and more pictures framed them, but the photographs seemed to be more diverse in terms of people instead of just Phil and his sons. There were photos of builders only believed to be myths, ancient redstoners that had evolved redstone mechanics to be the way they are today, coders who were said to help code and update the universe to prevent any sort of glitches or bugs from popping up in places where they should never be. Pictures of mythical creatures and magical forests popping with colors and shapes that many have never once imagined laying their eyes upon once in their entire existence.

Further onward is what is most definitely the living room, a plush-looking couch settled against the wall with two pillows rested in the corners of it and a blanket draped over the backside, a small table with a few candles and other random things resting in front of it. There’s, again, more pictures scattered around, filling the walls and leaving no empty space for extra things. There’s another fireplace on the opposite side of the couch, also burning brightly, and a vase of flowers is placed on the mantle, and the floor’s a fluffy wool carpet, dyed a midnight purple color. It had tiny white speckles on it, too, that made it look like a beautiful starry sky during the dead of night. Also, again, there’s more feathers scattered across the floor.

He’s then lead into an area that is _very obviously_ the kitchen, recently cleaned plates and dishes sat on woven towels next to a sink with water splashed on the sides, cabinets lining the walls, a rack of knives and other cooking utensils hanging from a hook, an island smack dab in the middle, a few boxes of multiple different tea bags set on one of the multiple counters under the cabinets up above. A stove rests in the middle of the ones on the right side wall, and chests and containers of what’s _probably_ food and other random things are stacked at the back wall. A bowl of sweetberries is placed on the island, beads of water reflecting on them and showing that they’d recently been cleaned off, shimmering as the brighter lamp above in the ceiling illuminates the room.

Phil walks over with him still clinging to his arm and swoops up the bowl, adjusting it to fit snugly in the bend of his elbow before looking at him and smiling. Dream blinks before faintly grinning back and letting Phil lead him right back to the living room. As they walk back into the room, Dream pulls the blanket around his shoulders closer to him with one hand, relishing in the warmth it provides him. It brings back memories of Bad throwing blankets around him after getting sick, and cuddle piles where he’s at the very bottom and Sap, George, and Bad are piled atop him. He misses those days. _He wants everything to be normal. Please let it be normal again please letitbenormal—_

He plops down next to Phil on the couch, curling into the older man’s side and sighing softly. His cheek presses against Phil’s shoulder as he reaches over and hesitantly takes a berry, taking his time to chew it as Phil’s wing curls around him. He soon swallows it, savoring the sweet flavor after having barely eaten much in the past week of walking. He takes another and eats it, letting the juice fill his mouth before swallowing. Dream then takes another. And another. He continues taking them until his stomach is absolutely screaming again from too much at one time, and he flinches, reeling his hand away from the bowl. _No more right now._

Dream watches as Phil plucks berries from the bowl, the red-pink berries glistening in his hand before he pops them into his mouth. It was the calmest he’s felt in months, every other day consisting of being wary and anxious, planning and fighting, war and blood. Only now is he realizing the toll it’s taking on him, the wave hitting him full force as he stares blankly into the fire for, what, the second time? Third?

The clink of the bowl being set down gains his attention, and he looks over to Phil, who was gazing down at him, brows furrowed in an unsure look. The winged man breathes out deeply, moving his gaze to the flames. “So… uhm… what…” Phil starts, and Dream very soon knows what he’s trying to ask, and sweat begins to form on his forehead as he looks down at his hands, that he just recently noticed were shaking. _Can he trust Phil? Is he trustworthy?..._

_He can talk to Phil. He’s a nice man. Dream trusts him._

“Well… I… ran from the SMP…” He states the fairly obvious, inhaling sharply before continuing. “I— I ran because I felt guilty. I— uh— felt—no, feel— really _really_ guilty about everything I’ve done. Uh— I… knew nobody liked me anymore, so I decided to j-just book it…” Dream coughs out, and Phil pulls out a glass of water from who the fuck knows where and passes it to him, which he takes gratefully, taking a couple sips of it before setting it down on the table. “Phil, I’ve done s-so much harm… I—…” He pauses, and he whispers out the last few words, leaning further into Phil’s side.

“I don’t w-wanna be alone anymore, Ph-Phil…” 

He sniffles, and now Phil’s hugging him, and he feels even warmer, because he’s getting hugged by someone again, and Phil’s warm, and he _doesn’t_ feel alone like he normally does, and it feels so nice to feel cared for. It feels so nice to feel _loved_ ( _is it bad that he can’t remember the last time he felt like this?_ ). Dream’s quieter, but he’s pretty sure his tears are still soaking into Phil’s cloak, but Phil still doesn’t seem to care that his shoulder is getting wet from his crying. Phil only hugs him tighter, rubbing his back like before, and humming a soft tune to him that he _swears_ he’s heard before somewhere.

Phil’s wings are curled around him like they were out in the snow, and there’s a stray feather on the top of his head that he can feel tickling his scalp, a small and almost silent giggle climbing from his vocal chords. The feather soon gets blown by some phantom breeze indoors, and it drifts down to his freckled nose. Dream sneezes, and he hears Phil chuckle and a hand reaches up, ruffling his hair. A tiny grin finds its way onto his face as he feels Phil shift slightly, a pillow now pulled between both of them and the couch cushions. It’s comfortable, the most comfortable it’s been for Dream in such a _long time_ ( _he hasn’t gotten to fully— just... relax… in so long)._

Dream swears he’s gonna start wailing again when he hears Phil’s very next sentence.

“You won’t be alone anymore, bud. Not on my watch, okay?” Phil murmurs, and he _still_ has that caring tone, and it makes Dream feel even safer as he sniffles once again and holds back another wave of tears, shutting his eyes again, and he wants to sleep again, because it’s safe and warm in Phil’s hold, and he wants to just _calm down and_ _relax for once, because it’s never been this safe for Dream at the SMP, and he just wants to get to just back away from his responsibilities as a server owner and drink hot cocoa and eat berries and cookies and do all these things he never gets to do because he’s always had to be strong and fight and do all these things he doesn’t ever want to have to do again._

He faintly smiles, and, as he drifts off again, so grateful to be able to sleep for once, he listens to Phil’s steady heartbeat, tiredly pulling the blanket around him closer ( _he’s pretty sure he felt Phil’s wing move closer to him as well_ ). He’s fully pulled into the void of sleep with one singular sentence from Phil bouncing around his mind freely.

“ _I won’t let you be alone anymore._ ”

**Author's Note:**

> there are still gonna be a t l e a s t 3 more parts
> 
> i have plans
> 
> one of them includes dadza going absolutely fucking feral and scolding the server  
> so watch out for that 👁👄👁
> 
> again please hand over your criticism 🤲
> 
> ALSO ANOTHER REMINDER THAT THIS IS COMPLETELY PLATONIC
> 
> if anyone wants to talk to me or check out my art, my insta is @/blue_skie.s and my discord is blue_skie.s#6774 !
> 
> i am open to chatting if you ever feel like it, i dont bite HAHAHCHDJNC—
> 
> or if you ever wanna do fanart or smthn, feel free to @ me !!


End file.
